


Drown All Good Sense

by Jougetsu



Series: Stavos Daemon AU [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Daemons, Domestic Fluff, Family Fluff, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2017-04-29
Packaged: 2018-10-25 09:43:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10761672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jougetsu/pseuds/Jougetsu
Summary: Davos did not think he'd be leaving Storm's End short four finger bones and in possession of a knighthood.Stannis Baratheon never thought he'd lose all good sense when he clapped eyes on a smuggler.





	Drown All Good Sense

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The_Plaid_Slytherin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Plaid_Slytherin/gifts).



> Thank you so much for this wonderful opportunity dear The_Plaid_Slytherin! I loved everything in your letter to bits and my only regret is that I did not have the time to write you all the lovely things you requested! Despite loving His Dark Materials since its first publishing this is my first daemon AU fic so I hope it is pleasing to you!
> 
> Also many thanks to Mushroom, Elthadriel, and Theblindtorpedo - my wonderful friends and beta-readers/cheerleaders for keeping the writing going! 
> 
> **Canon Divergence Note:** Davos was never married to Marya in this AU, though she's alive and happily married to another sailor. 
> 
> The exhaustive list of Daemons can be find in the end notes.

_Storm’s End 283 AC_

  


Sunniva flew up to the portcullis before Davos could have the ship moored properly. It was only from their many years of testing the limits of their bond that she could fly so far from Davos with little ill effect. “Supplies for Lord Baratheon!” she called out to the shadowed figures behind the gate.

The guards lethargically came down the stone steps, faces sunken from hunger and sleeplessness. Their daemons were equally sluggish in movement. “Why should we believe you?” the lankier of the two said. “How are we to know you are not Tyrell or Redwyne men?”

Davos nodded curtly to his first mate who handed him the small sack he’d set aside earlier. “I’m but a smuggler from Flea Bottom, do you think Lords Tyrell or Redwyne would trouble with a man like me? And I bring not the temptation of ale or roast beef, only salt fish and onions. A poor sort of spy that makes me.”

He opened the sack and took out a small onion, nearly withered in its crinkled skin. “But I humbly offer what I can to the brave forces here at Storm’s End if your lord is willing to barter.”

It was a testament to the men’s malnourishment that they were fairly salivating at the onion. “Your crew stays,” the other guard said, his magpie daemon twitching on his shoulder.

“The young lord is not a generous man,” the lanky one warned him. “I would think carefully if I were you, smuggler. He may not pay what you ask.”

“I’m willing to take my chances,” Davos answered. Lord Lannister would be the sort to confiscate his cargo, but the young Baratheon had a reputation for being obsessed with law and honor to the point of fault. He would either pay or he would continue to starve.

Davos liked his odds.

At long last the portcullis was raised and Davos was bounding up the steps quicker than the guards could keep up. Sunniva flew a little ahead as was their habit. One didn’t make it into Shipbreaker Bay with one’s daemon lagging behind. 

As they as they emerged from the depths of the cellars there was a flurry of wings as Sunniva suddenly swooped and dodged a hawk daemon. The latter gave chase and the sight was arresting enough that Davos nearly overlooked the person the hawk daemon must have belonged to.

A gaunt young man with close cropped black hair and broad shoulders frowned at Davos. Guardsmen flanked him at either side and a maester hovered a little beyond.

“State your name and purpose,” the young man said sharply. Dressed in gold and black combined with his manner there could be no doubt that this was the Baratheon lordling. “Quickly. Elsewise I will have to assume you are a Targaryen spy or Tyrell lackey.”

Up close Davos could see his eyes were dark blue and he was clenching trembling fists. Despite his apparent exhaustion the young Baratheon’s spine was ramrod straight. Davos had expected to find a naive nobleman broken by the siege. Not the most stalwart man he’d ever seen. Reward was starting to recede slowly from his mind as he took in what the siege had levied here.

“I’m Davos, formerly of Flea Bottom, my lord,” Davos hastened to add. “I’ve brought onions and salted fish. For you and your men.”

Suuniva cawed triumphantly and the hawk daemon replied with a low cry.

“A smuggler then,” Lord Baratheon’s frown deepened. Davos could not see why a starving man would be concerned with niceties. To his credit Baratheon did not look as though he had been better fed than any of his men.

“My lord, please, if not for the men then think of your brother,” the maester spoke up.

“Do you know the punishment for smuggling in the realm?” Lord Baratheon continued.

“I know what it was under the Mad King’s reign,” Davos replied. He misliked where the negotiation was headed and yet he something drew him to the other. “The smuggler’s hand.”

“To my knowledge the law has not changed,” said Lord Baratheon as his daemon settled on his shoulder. “If you are delivering smuggled goods to me I must uphold the law.”

“Stannis!” gasped the maester.

“So instead of payment you’ll be taking the onions and my hand?” Davos challenged. “Doesn’t seem quite fair, your lordship.”

“You did not let me finish.” The frown had transmuted into a full scowl at this point. “You will be compensated of course. As a talented seamen the loss of your hand would be too great were you to enter my service. I propose taking only the first joint of your fingers on one hand, leaving the thumb intact. In exchange for the justice served and the services rendered I am willing to knight you and reward you with lands and a keep. However, if that is not agreeable to you then you may leave with your onions and your hand.”

This was unprecedented in Davos’ experience. He’d been threatened, offered bribes, cheated, and tricked, but no one had offered a boon mixed with such harsh penalty. Sunniva landed on his shoulder and her gaze never left the hawk daemon and her master. “You’d make Davos a real knight and everything?” she queried. 

“Stannis Baratheon always keeps his word,” the hawk daemon sniffed. 

“I would be your vassal?” Davos asked. 

“Yes of course,” Lord Baratheon seemed almost startled by his own answer. “You must retire from smuggling as you would be a knight.”

Lands of his own, a keep, a title, and to never want for anything again; Davos was more than a little inclined to accept. Never before had he been willing to take the knee for any man, but Stannis Baratheon was even more a singular personage than reported.

“Would you be willing to swing the blade yourself?” Davos said. There would come the true test of the man’s character. “If so then I would cheerfully enter your service, your lordship.”

Lord Baratheon’s eyes lit up in surprise. He truly had not considered Davos would accept his terms though clearly Lord Baratheon was convinced of their fairness. “To bring you into my service, yes I will do the deed myself. It is only fair.”

Later in one of the smaller, cleaner chambers, after the onions and salted fish had been distributed, Davos would lose part of his fingers to become a knight. The young lord seemed more nervous than Davos though unwavering in his course of justice. The maester attended to bear witness and treat the wound. Baratheon’s hawk daemon, Erline was her name, very queerly perched on his shoulder crowding Sunniva in what felt like a blatant display of comfort. Davos had rarely been touched by the daemon of another outside the bedchamber. If Lord Stannis disapproved of Erline’s behavior he did not show it.

The daemons crooned to each other as the blade came down quickly four times in succession.

Things became a bit hazy after that thanks to the milk of poppy the maester Cressen administered. He dreamt of birds flying in a misty spring forest with the smell of wild onions and a man with eyes the color of the stormy sea. The rocks of Shipbreaker Bay loomed too, larger than they had in waking, and the rest bled together in quick succession. 

When he woke he was Ser Davos Seaworth of Cape Wrath.

He believed himself to still be dreaming when he heard whispers. 

“Is he really a knight, Van? He doesn’t have any armor or a sword,” a high childish voice lisped. 

“Your brother made him knight, remember? He wasn’t a knight before today,” came the reply. 

When Davos opened his eyes there was a mop of black curls and blue eyes that bordered on sea green staring at him. A young lad, hardly more than five or six years of age, had his arms around the neck of his daemon who was in fawn form. The pair of them stood solemnly at Davo’s bedside. 

“Thank you for the onions and salted fish,” the boy said. “They didn’t taste good, but we were very very hungry for a long time.” 

“Thank you, sir knight,” the daemon bobbed its head in a little bow of sorts. 

While his tunic was finely made and his bearing noble, Davos did not doubt the child had suffered in the year of siege. There were missing teeth enough and he could only pray that it was the regular amount lost teeth most children had that age. Dark shadows ringed his eyes and his cheeks were more gaunt than a noble child ought be. Yet to Lord Baratheon’s credit the child was not nearly as ill looking as the rest of the castle’s inhabitants and indeed seemed to be in better health than Lord Stannis himself. 

“Oh, hatchling,” Sunniva, ever sentimental, outstretched her wings to pet the little fawn. “You needn’t thank us.” 

The boy and his daemon beamed under the attention and Davos was reminded of his own childhood in Flea Bottom. Sunniva and him had a strange knack for banding together to make a little family of urchins. It had been with a heavy heart that he left to serve on the _Cobblecat_ , but by then nearly all of their dearest friends had parted ways. 

“Renly, there you are!” Maester Cressen bustled into the room. “You ought not be disturbing Ser Seaworth’s rest. He is recovering from his injuries.” 

“He is not a disturbance,” Sunniva coolly dared the maester to contradict her. “The lad was thanking Davos for his service.” 

At this Cressen’s lips twitched as though holding back laughter and his field mouse daemon darted between shoulders. “I am glad to hear it. Allow me to make the introductions properly. Ser Davos Seaworth, this is Lord Renly Baratheon, the youngest brother of Lord Stannis and King Robert Baratheon, and his daemon Van. Renly, Ser Seaworth and his daemon Sunniva indeed brought the onions of our deliverance. While it was kind of you to express your gratitude for Ser Seaworth’s great deed, you must allow him to rest, Renly.” 

“I daresay we can rest as well with Van and Renly as without,” Sunniva said. “If they would like to stay they are welcome. Davos cannot spend all night and day under milk of the poppy by any means.” 

“May we?” Renly and Van asked in chorus. “We won’t be a bother at all. I can show Ser Davos my book and we can play Fox and Geese and-” 

“As long as Ser Seaworth does not get overtired I suppose there is no harm in it,” Maester Cressen said. “Stannis will be glad you approve of our new Baratheon vassal lord.”

Davos expected the word vassal to ring heavy, ominously as though being shackled yet instead he felt the thrill of a sail being hoisted to catch a tailwind. 

  


_King’s Landing 284 AC_

  


Eavesdropping was not a habit of Stannis Baratheon’s. Which was why he could not explain what made him freeze as he was about to enter the Great Hall. 

“If it isn’t the Onion Knight!” Robert boomed and Balthilde snuffled at his side, likely in amusement. “Let me get a good look at you man! I’ve hardly gotten a chance to see you since the throne’s been won. Tell me how goes the salt fish and onion trade?” 

“I’m sure it’s much better since Your Grace has taken the throne, but I wouldn’t know personally,” Davos replied, no trace of resentment in his voice at Robert’s disrespect.

Stannis’ heart swelled with pride for his knight’s dignified amiability.

“It is Ser Seaworth now, is it not?” Ned Stark’s voice was clear and measured. Stannis did not have a clear view, but he knew that Stark’s hound daemon Jerica would be still as a statue at his feet. “Navigating Shipbreaker Bay to bring much needed supplies was quite a feat and very much worth a knighthood. We were not properly introduced at Storm’s End, but let me tell you I was not unaware of your service. The keep could not have held until my arrival without your timely deed.”

“You flatter me, Lord Stark,” Davos said. “I was a smuggler seeking his fortune then, the deed was not done in patriotism.”

“Oh, aye the war was every man for himself if he did not have honor at stake,” Robert laughed in such a way that Stannis knew he must be clapping Davos on the shoulder. “I wouldn’t have taken your fingers for it! You ought to have told my brother to stuff his silly deal and come to me for onion payment afterward. Stannis has peculiar notions of what just compensation is.” 

“I consider myself as having gotten the better share of the arrangement,” Davos’ tone went almost chilly which made no sense to Stannis as Robert charmed everyone he met. “I do not regret the loss of my fingers. I gained much more in return.” 

“Those Cape Wrath lands Stannis gave you are half decent I’ll grant,” said Robert. “But if you waited for me to finish the war you’d have kept your hand whole and my Hand would have found you a better keep.” 

“Perhaps, Your Grace,” Davos said simply. From the rustle of feathers Stannis could tell that Sunniva was agitated which meant that Davos was agitated.

Did Davos regret entering his service? Stannis always thought he had been just in his treatment of the man, yet Robert’s goading and Stark’s silence made him doubt himself. 

“Well we’ll just have to find you a pretty bride instead,” laughed Robert. “There are plenty of spirited maids in King’s Landing that wouldn’t turn up their nose at a newly made knight. Let’s count ourselves fortunate that Stannis only took your fingers and not your cock!” 

“Thank you for your generosity, Your Grace,” said Davos. “But you needn’t trouble yourself over an Onion Knight. It’s your wedding feast after all and I am not your vassal.”

“Aren’t you? You’re a Baratheon man and this Baratheon sits the Iron Throne.” More shuffling and snorting, Balthilde was probably trying to provoke a response from Sunniva.

“I am Lord Stannis’ man, Your Grace. I serve you through him.”

A silence blanketed the hall and for a moment Stannis fancied the others could hear his heart threatening to beat out of his chest. He blindly reached out to touch Erline’s back for he could not fully process Davos’ words. He had never doubted the man’s loyalty once since he knighted him, yet to hear Davos so boldly assert the claim to Robert and to contradict the king’s assumption of fealty was dizzying. His knees might have buckled then and there if Erline hadn’t dug her talons into his shoulders a little sharper, the pinpricks of pain kept him on his feet.

Suddenly Robert guffawed mightily, “Ha! You’re bolder than you look, Seaworth! I can see why my brother was so taken by you. Not much to look at, but you’ve got spirit!” 

Ned Stark was starting to say something, but Stannis didn’t hear it. The blood was now rushing to his ears and his hearing was swept aside by the roar of his own pulse. Somehow he made it back to his chambers without being noticed by the others. 

What could it mean? How could Davos esteem him so highly, with such ferocious loyalty he would tell off the most powerful man in the Seven Kingdoms to make his regard known? And to also do so in front of another highborn witness, Ned Stark? Of course after the siege Stannis expected some measure of faithfulness from the man he raised to knighthood, yet this beggared belief. Did Davos not resent Stannis in some small way for the maiming of his hand? Did not even a shred of him regret taking the service of someone widely shunned as dour and inflexible when he might have enjoyed the favor of Robert instead? 

“Cease this at once,” Erline interrupted his thoughts. She flew around the room several times before landing on the back of the chair of his writing desk. “I’ll not stand for you tying us both up in knots. Ser Seaworth declared his admiration for you very plainly back there. You ought be overjoyed and instead you’re halfway to making yourself too ill to attend the wedding and feast tomorrow.” 

Stannis breathed deep through his nose and it nearly had a steadying effect. “You are right, as usual, Erline.” He could not fully agree with her assessment of admiration though it seemed useless to debate the point with her. They were matched in stubbornness or rather ‘pigheadedness’ according to Robert which was rich coming from a man with a boar for a daemon.

Erline’s eyes narrowed and Stannis thought she might nip at his hair, but she did not. “Instead of wallowing we might as well go see little Renly and Van. They’ll either be underfoot in the kitchens or cooped up in his chambers depending on that pack of pussycats.” 

“The Lannisters are important allies,” Stannis sighed. He misliked Cersei Lannister’s airs and temperament wise she seemed a poor match for Robert. Not that he thought Lyanna Stark would have suited his brother in the long run either though there was nothing to be said of that now. “But neither of us will let them bully Renly or Van.” 

As it turned out Renly had been cooped up in his chambers by order of the queen-to-be herself. Van, at the time in the form of a fawn, had trod on her crimson-and-gold gown. Her daemon Talen had hissed and taken a flying leap when Van kicked, and fortunately missed, the cat daemon. No real injuries resulted to either but Cersei ordered the servants to hie away ‘that feral pair’ out of her sight until the wedding ceremony. 

“You won’t marry anyone whose daemon hates Van, right?” Renly sniffled when Stannis found him. Van shifted from kitten to chick to fawn again while Renly clutched him. He settled on peacock chick when Erline nestled down to tuck Van under her wing. 

“As if anyone could hate either of you,” Erline scoffed. “Lady Lannister has no patience for anyone that isn’t her golden twin or father. I daresay Talen’s claws and Balthilde’s tusks will be more than well acquainted within a fortnight.”

Renly giggled and Van chirped up, “I hope Balthilde teaches mean Talen a lesson or two.” 

“We must try to at least be cordial and respect Lady Lannister once she becomes our brother’s wife and the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms,” Stannis said. He needed to at least try to get Renly to understand decorum for as much as Maester Cressen was devoted to all the Baratheons Renly had a way of getting away with things. 

“But you won’t marry someone like that, will you Stannis?” Renly persisted. “Someone whose daemon would attack Van or hiss at me.” 

Unbidden a memory of Sunniva nuzzling Van and calling him ‘hatchling’ sprung to mind. Renly did not deserve to have both brothers wed to spouses who did not care to treat him well. With their parents and cousins deceased long before he could remember them Renly was rather owed familial bonds.

“He had better not,” answered Erline in a clipped manner as she tightened her wing to hold Van closer. 

“I would never intentionally do so,” Stannis said. “But like Robert I must wed for the good of the house and the realm.” 

Van squawked as Renly’s face fell. 

“I suppose I could take your and Van’s counsel under advisement,” he quickly amended. “You are part of House Baratheon after all. Indeed you are my heir until I have children of my own.” 

In his heart of hearts Stannis knew it was a meaningless promise. Once things with Cersei soured, and sour they would in short order, Robert would not allow Stannis the blessing of a compatible, comely bride and happy marriage. For all his joviality there was a competitive and jealous streak in Robert where Stannis was concerned. The matter of Proudwing was everlasting proof. 

And yet Robert seemed to have a soft spot for Renly during whatever little time they were together. Perhaps Renly’s request might not be quite as futile as it seemed, but Stannis did not consider himself a man of hope even if Davos’ words were awakening something in his breast that was dangerously related.

Indeed Stannis was still turning over Davos’ declaration all through the evening and the next morning. It weighed on him to the point of distraction. Thus despite being at the front of the sept Stannis could not focus at all on the ceremony. The High Septon’s droning went on much longer than usual as it was a royal wedding. There was a flash of color as the maiden’s cloak was removed and the Baratheon house colors put on Cersei’s shoulders. Their respective daemons at last nuzzled each other chastely as proof their souls would indeed be one. Talen appeared docile for the duration, but it was more than like that the claws would come out during the bedding procession. More than one highborn lady’s daemon has outright attacked groomsmen’s daemons and public opinion was divided on whether the action was noble, proof of nerves being equated with proof of virginity, or vulgar, inability to submit to one’s new lord husband. Frankly, Stannis considered the stripping of a bride in public to be humiliating and distasteful in every aspect. He dreaded his inevitable marriage for he could not see Robert allowing his future bride her dignity unless of course Robert got distracted by a pretty maid and left for a tumble. 

Davos was next to him in the Great Sept, a silent comfort. Sunniva and Erline arranged themselves so that they would each perch on the shoulder closest to the other. They might have traded whispers during the ceremony, but Stannis could not be sure as Sunniva kept rustling her wings which would cover any of their talk. Jealousy prickled him as Stannis would have much preferred to be in conversation with his friend as well than attend to his brother wedding one of the most haughty woman in the Seven Kingdoms. He consoled himself that his brother would only wed once and the only wedding in the near future he would be honor-bound to attend would be his own. 

Unless of course Davos were to wed. 

Something soured in Stannis’ gut at the idea. Naturally, Davos would marry in time, especially as he had been elevated to knighthood with lands and a keep of his own. In truth Davos was so good a man Stannis was amazed he had not been married yet. It must have been his former profession that kept womenfolk away. Many smugglers and sailors had women at every port which would might make a marriage minded maid hesitate to commit to matrimony. For his own reasons Stannis did not wish for Davos to take a wife. Selfish, shameful reasons made manifest by the dreams Stannis had of Davos. No, even in his mind he must be honest it was more than merely dreams. One could ignore dreams. What was harder to ignore were his longings. They were not exclusively carnal in nature. Many of them centered on Davos’ kindly forthright manners, his attentiveness to Stannis, and rare fleeting touches. 

In fact one of those rare occurrences was happening. There was a hand at the small of his back that came and went as Stannis stumbled slightly leaving the sept. It had to be Davos for Erline would have brooked no other to touch her master.

“I can hardly see a thing either from all that censer smoke,” Davos interpreted Stannis’ missteps. He was not entirely wrong though really it was more that Stannis could not think clearly in his presence than momentary blurred vision. Stannis could not be sorry than Davos kept close all the way back to the Red Keep and the wedding feasting.

Stannis knew he was being greedy. There was a hunger in him like never before. Something about Ser Seaworth, Davos, made him voracious as though he could never get enough. Some distant part of him thought that it might be all right to take from Davos, because in the taking Stannis would end up overflowing and all that something would be returned to Davos in kind. 

Over the course of the feast the mead hadn’t gone entirely to his head. Of his surroundings and circumstances Stannis was quite aware. If anything he was too aware of Davos this evening. How he laughed and the way his eyes crinkled with joy, how his voice got huskier with drink yet he was never unsteady on his feet. 

“He’s a fine mate,” Erline whispered in Stannis’ ear. “Why do you hold back?” 

If he could really hold back Stannis would’ve never gotten this far in over his head. Never would have allowed the Onion Knight so far into his heart that there was no removing him. Erline knew that. If anything Erline was privy to more than just his own thoughts if one took into account her many hushed conversations with Sunniva. It did not escape him how intimately the two daemons groomed each other whilst he struggled to put distance between himself and Davos. 

“You know why,” was his clipped answer. Still he stroked Erline’s wing before reaching for another glass of mead. A heady Dornish brew infused with some fruit or flower that lent it a decadence Stannis ought to disapprove of, but instead had him wondering what it would taste like on Davos’ lips. What was unfortunate was that this was hardly the first time Stannis had imagined his vassal in such a manner. Indeed his longings had only grown in scope and ferocity since the siege. 

Still Davos’ words from earlier burned in his mind. 

_I am Lord Stannis’ man, Your Grace. I serve you through him._

Proudwing was the first kindred spirit he had ever known and Stannis never fathomed that he could have a fraction of that companionship again. The Baratheon vassals and Stormlands Houses had no loyalty or love for him. Robert was who they all adored and had Robert never existed they would have only grudgingly served Stannis out of respect for the Baratheon lineage. Davos was the only man to ever take the knee for Stannis and Stannis alone. 

“My lord, you are not dancing,” Davos chided merrily as he came around to Stannis’ seat. He could not be seated at the high table but had been placed not insignificantly amongst the lesser lords and knights during the feasting. 

“I do not dance, Ser Seaworth,” answered Stannis. “But I am glad you are so fond of it.”

“Sailors adore dancing,” laughed Davos. “Though we are hardly good at it so perhaps it’s best we rarely do so in mixed company. I hope you’re enjoying yourself even if you do not take to the floor.” 

“I am…” Enduring, seething, longing. “Pleased that the company is lively rather than treacherous. After the last king and the war the court could use an event to boost morale and foster new relations.” 

“Come now, my lord,” said Davos, voice lowering mischievously. “You can tell me if you’re bored silly.” 

“I will admit to no such thing,” Stannis said and reached for another goblet of wine.

“He is,” Erline said simultaneously, unfeeling traitor that she was. 

Davos grinned the broadest grin Stannis had seen on him yet. One of the things Stannis was learning about the other man was he delighted in drawing Stannis in. Stannis who was certain he had been born with a wall in his heart between himself in others. For Davos that wall hardly existed and Stannis wasn’t sure what to make of it. 

The crowd roared and Robert’s boisterous guffaws were at the center which could only mean the bedding was about to commence.

“Shall we make our exit, my lord?” Davos asked. Nothing was patronizing or judgmental in his question and for that Stannis was endlessly grateful. 

“Indeed, Ser Seaworth,” Stannis stood suddenly, anxious to leave before Robert or worse Ned Stark or Jon Arryn try to rope him into the spectacle. Erline gave a small screech as she tried to get a grip on Stannis’ tunic so as not to be left behind, “Not so hasty, Stannis!” 

How was it that Davos, who had scarcely known him a year, knew Stannis better than those who had known him his entire life? Even Maester Cressen sometimes erred in his understanding of Stannis’ character. Robert seemed not to comprehend him at all, despite Ned Stark being closer in morals and temperament to Stannis and Robert adored Ned. 

They slipped out of the hall by one of the smaller entrances used mostly by the servants. The bulk of the merrymakers making a slow raucous parade towards the King’s chambers and Stannis had never felt so lucky to have his chambers so far removed from the royal suites. No servants were in his wing and very few guards were posted in that part of the castle. Which meant that in the flickering torchlight, head abuzz from Dornish spirits Stannis could almost believe he and Davos were the only people in the world. 

_I am Lord Stannis’ man_ , rang in his head until the only thing left to do was to turn around and crowd Davos up against the door to his chamber and press his lips quickly against Davos’ before his rationality returned. And then once more because his thirst for the other man was great enough to chance it. It would not do to go his entire life with only one kiss from someone he admired so greatly. 

“My lord, Stannis,” Davos pulled him close instead of pushing him away. “My lord, are you quite sure?”

He was all tenderness and without disgust. From what Stannis could tell in the dim lighting of the corridor Davos’ desires mirrored his own. 

“Tell me to stop,” Stannis gripped Davos’ tunic tighter. “Tell me to stop, Ser Seaworth.” 

“My lord,” Davos managed between kisses. No longer chaste the kisses had become desperate and messy in a way Stannis was shocked to discover he craved. “My lord, do you want us to stop?” 

Of course the answer was ‘no’ and ‘never,’ but Stannis couldn’t get the words out. They rose up in his throat and died there in lump too thick to swallow. 

Perhaps Erline could explain it to Sunniva.

“Not at all,” he replied, half despair and wholly entrenched in the agony of infatuation. He tried to bring Davos into another kiss, but was stopped midway.

“Then let us continue in your chambers properly,” Davos stroked a hand through Stannis’ hair as gentle with him as he was with his own daemon. 

Stannis was lost, a ship blown from its mooring. Whatever tomorrow would bring he could care in the moment. Not when Davos was opening the door and they were at last in Stannis’ rooms with no one the wiser of their tryst to be.

Erline and Sunniva were chasing each other in flight and Stannis wasn’t quite sure what they would do once one caught the other which wasn’t too far off from his own situation. 

Davos shucked off his own heavy tunic, black silk with small onions embroidered in silver thread. Stannis figured he ought to do the same though his fingers shook as his own lack of experience sunk in. He’d kept celibate to not sire bastards, to be different from Robert, and because never before had he been carried away by urges to the point of acting upon them with another. To take oneself in hand in the privacy of a bath or one’s bed was not the same as coupling.

“Have you changed your mind, my lord?” Davos inquired. “I’ll not hold any of it against you if you have.”

“I,” Stannis swallowed thickly. “I am not, that is to say I have not changed my mind…”

A man is not a maid, Stannis told himself. Maidenhood was for ladies. Virginity meant nothing in a man, did it not?

“Is it unfamiliarity then?” Davos was at his side once more. 

“A-aye.” 

“That is easily changed if you wish it. Let us return to where we left off,” he reached out with his left hand to bring Stannis’ wrist to his mouth for a lingering kiss. “And we shall proceed with whatever brings you pleasure.”

Stannis did not deserve this man.

He would desperately cling to whatever he could get of him anyway.

***

The soft patter or rain beat at the windows and a heavy warmth surrounded Stannis. His left temple throbbed slightly. Robert’s wedding was last night. He drank mead until his iron walls creaked open and let out his, his inhibitions. 

Stannis squeezed his eyes shut as though he could refuse reality. 

It had not been much mead and even less Dornish red. But something inside him had drowned all good sense and he dragged Davos to his chambers. 

A ruffle of feathers and Erline settled on his pillow. 

“They only left a few moments ago,” she said by way of explanation. 

“Small wonder he left,” Stannis muttered. “After I mauled him last night.”

Erline snorted, “You ought to see your own neck and shoulders. The mauling was quite mutual.” 

Against his better judgment, though really the last few days had been nothing but going against his own judgment, Stannis gently fingered around his neck and indeed found sore spots. 

“Love bites,” corrected Erline with a smugness that was unbecoming. 

It was Stannis’ turn to snort. Love had nothing to do with it surely. Love was soft words and self-deception and had no place in Stannis’ heart. “The result of drink and lust addling the mind.”

Besides if Ser Seaworth had those affections for him then he would not skulk off in the light of day. The Onion Knight was a romantic at his core. 

“Addled? Addled is it?” Erline dug her talons into his pillow and pulled it out from under his head. “I certainly don’t remember being addled and too much drink affects me as well as you. I don’t recall Sunniva being addled either. Her eyes were as keen and clear as always.”

He yanked his pillow back, daring to open his eyes and look at the dim room. Nothing in his chambers would suggest he lost his senses and ruined his dearest friendship. Davos must have tidied the place before Stannis woke, for the pewter pitcher had been knocked to the floor the night before yet was now in its proper place and his clothes had most decidedly not been hung neatly over the back of his chair. 

“Whether it was drink or influence from the festivities,” Stannis grit his teeth at the word. “I threw myself upon Ser Seaworth and behaved as rutting beast with no thought to consequences or Ser Seaworth’s views on the matter.” 

“You are not Robert,” Erline came in close to nestle by Stannis’ shoulder. “I quite distinctly recollect you asking Davos how he wished to proceed more than once. And in each instance his response was enthusiastic.”

“I am his lord,” argued Stannis. “He would be well within his rights to fear reprisal for refusing his liege. What I did was every bit as unconscionable as a nobleman taking an advantage of a serving girl.” 

“It is true that you outrank him,” said Erline. “But do you truly believe that Davos would have allowed you to ‘maul him’ if he didn’t reciprocate your desires? He has never backed down from disagreeing with you or suggesting alternate courses of action.” 

“Then where is he?” snapped Stannis. “If he feels as you imply then why did he leave before I woke? If he is not displeased by my actions or his then why disappear? He has no place he need be.” 

Erline apparently had enough of his train of thought and nipped at his hair. “Am I a teller of fortunes at the fair? An oracle at Asshai? No! I do know that were he so disgusted by either of your actions that Sunniva and I would have not nested so peacefully last night.”

That was, well perhaps revelation was too grand of word, but it was something. A minor epiphany, perhaps. “Did you now?” 

“Aye,” Erline’s tone gentled into a sigh. “We were not best pleased when Ser Seaworth took the tunics away. Silk is such a lovely material for nests.”

At the very best it had been a fine material to bunch in his fists while he had straddled Davos’ thigh and begged to be ravished. 

“Is it? And what eggs do you plan to hatch there? ‘Tis a fruitless bond.” Better to steel himself against any hopes. Stannis Baratheon was not a man who reached for the impossible. Pragmatism was too tightly woven into his soul to let fancy in. 

“Not every union need to be conventionally fertile to be fruitful,” Erline gripped the edge of the pillow in her claws once more. “You simply do not believe you might find happiness with Davos. I shall not stand for such nonsense. You will be happy or Sunniva and I will make you both very miserable until you are.” 

"Is that a threat, Erline?"

"Don't be foolish," she replied. "It's a promise."

The door opened and Sunniva flew in before Davos entered with a food-laden tray. "Bread, beef broth, and some cheese. It's not much, but I figured you'd waken hungry, my lord."

"You figured correctly," Stannis felt shy all of a sudden. The man had seen in the throes of passion and was tending to him with naught but respect and affection. Had he misjudged the situation? "Thank you, Ser Seaworth."

"You may still call me 'Davos' as it pleases you," Davos said. Stannis remembered he had used the man's name last night quite freely after his first spending. 

"Thank you, Davos," Stannis retried.

The pleasure on Davos' face was worth everything that had come before. A tendril of hope began to unfurl in Stannis' breast.

Erline and Sunniva might not need to launch their campaign. He might learn happiness from Davos after all.

**Author's Note:**

> List of Daemons
> 
> Stannis Baratheon - female hawk, Erline  
> Davos Seaworth - female albatross, Sunniva  
> Renly Baratheon - male, unsettled but tends most towards peacock, Van  
> Robert Baratheon - female boar, Balthilde  
> Tywin Lannister - female lioness, Oriane  
> Cersei - male domesticated cat, Talen  
> Jaime - female domesticated cat, Malorie  
> Ned Stark - female hound, Jerica  
> Maester Cressen - male dormouse, Reimer


End file.
